Finding the Past
by Riddlesindisguise
Summary: A Warhammer fantasy 40K crossover! Captain Julius Marconov had a bad feeling about his mission. But will his skills alone be enough to save himself?
1. In the beginning

**Alright here is the edited first chapter, now it should make sense! Hallelujah! **

**Ok, I have had this idea in my head for a few years and I'm a little bit surprised that no one else has ever done something like this. If someone has already mixed the Warhammer universes and I just don't know it, review this and tell me where to find your story. **

**I'm not sure if this counts as a crossover (It's Warhammer either way) but if it does, it's my first so no flames.**

**Once again and as always, I Do Not own any Warhammer characters, ideas, places, or anything like that. If I did, I'd be making my characters into models, and my stories into campaigns, not words. Don't sue me.**

**Remember to review, I like the reviews!**

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Captain Julius Marconov, of the Brazen Comet Space Marine chapter, was thrown to the wall as his entire ship shook. He turned and ran back to the bridge. The door hissed open and he was tossed against the doorway by another tremor. "What happened?! Are we under attack?" Serfs were thrown from their stations by exploding control panels and the ones who still worked were shouting out about new emergencies. "-decks one through three have hull breaches-" "Sir the Navigator's dome is gone, repeat the Navi-" "-void shields five, eight and nineteen are down, warp matter within the shields-" "-I am getting no report from Inquisitor Gerig, assuming interrogation deck is gone too-" "Abandon ship, abandon ship!" The alarm to abandon ship blared throughout the _Annihilatus_. Julius stumbled to an unmanned station and swiftly tapped out instructions on a key pad. "Opening bow view ports." Shields protecting the crew from the deadly sight of immaterium slid back to show that they were no longer in the warp but in material space. Before them, a planet loomed. "Xavior!" Julius yelled, ran up to the Command throne. "What planet is this!?" The Starship commander was calm. "I do not know sir, our galactical mapping system is off line. I would suggest escape Captain." Escape pods hatched in the floor slid back to reveal the pods beneath. Julius swiftly turned back to his ship's commander. "What about you?" "This ship is my reason sir, I will continue to attempt to save it so long as I have breath. Now is an optimum time sir." Julius turned from the ship's Commander and stepped to an escape pod entrance. "Fare well my friend." Xavior nodded. "Walk with the Emperor Captain." Julius hopped into the hole and the door shut behind him. The pod was just big enough for the Space Marine and with a hiss, it launched off into the atmosphere. Through the tiny viewing port window he saw the Battle barge crash into the atmosphere after him.

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Commander Xavior sat in his command throne, several cables and feeds that connected him to the great ship had been snapped off by falling debris. He could feel the machine spirit's pain as entire decks were destroyed by the entry into the atmosphere. He sat there doing all possible to comfort the spirit when the bridge crumpled like a piece of tin, and exploded into flame.

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Julius saw many droppods and escape pods fall from the dying ship, but as the last ones were firing, huge detonations blossomed from all along the ship's length, and the once glorious _Annihilatus_ exploded. The shockwave shook his pod and slammed his head into the narrow escape pod walls, knocking the space Marine unconscious. As darkness played over his eyes, memories from the not distant past resurfaced…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. Brother-Captain Julius Marconov knelt and prayed before a shrine of the Emperor in his cloister-cell. He stood at the average height for a Space marine, around seven feet, his heavily muscled body was covered with garments of tanned leather, made from the skin of a Tyranid hormogaunt he had slain. And over that he wore His Captain's Tabard, which proudly showed his chapter's heraldry of a gold comet with two silver tails. His short brown hair and ice blue eyes had made him handsome on his home world, now thick scars covered most of his face and his left eye had been replaced with an emotionless red optical implant.

He had served the Emperor well. Five centuries in his service, two campaigns, three crusades, and the power of an Ork "Waaagh!" had not even begun to tarnish his faith. He remembered the day that the Space marines of the Brazen Comets chapter descended down in their mighty Thunderhawk gunship to his home world, Theta Prime.

He smirked, the legend in his village called the gunship a "falling star" sent from the Emperor to punish sinners. In a way they were right, if anyone sinned before the Emperor's chosen he or she would receive a trial by bolter.

The first sight of the silver lined bronze behemoths filed him with a great feeling of faith, if the Emperor had warriors like these it was not possible for him to lose. He and two others had been taken away from there that night, into the mouth of the gunship. The tortures and surgeries that transformed him from boy into Space Marine very nearly cracked his mind but he lasted through them all, and after three centuries of service he had been promoted to captain of the Brazen Comets seventh company.

The steel door to his quarters opened with a slight hiss, and someone entered from the hall out side with slightly clanking footsteps. "My lord, Inquisitor Gerig requires you on the bridge." The voice was artificial and amplified. Julius finished his prayers and stood up. He reverently closed the small Nal-wood doors of his shrine and turned to the speaker. It was, as he expected, one of the servitors the Inquisitor had brought aboard with his retinue. Its body and left arm was a strange combination of arcane technology, and grey dead human flesh. Its right arm was a mere weapon mount, and its head was mostly cybernetics. Julius stared into the unblinking optical implants much like his own until the half-machine turned and began to make its way down the hall back to its master.

Julius stepped out into the hall and strode through the doors. The hall of his Battlebarge, the _Annihillatus _was decorated with steely gothic arches and depictions of the Emperor, a few of the countless Imperial saints and heroes of the Chapter lined the walls. His walk showed that he was in deep thought, the Inquisitor in question had not yet informed him what mission he was on, and why he needed the Space Marine's aid. Maybe now was a time to find out.

In his last battle the Captain had faced the Eldar, and their deadly weapons had badly damaged his armor. Upon the removal of the armor a serf had taken it away to the Master of the Forge for repairs. Julius was curious if it was finished, and a smile passed his scarred features. The Inquisitor could wait just while longer.

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As Julius walked on, he came to where the hallway forked off. His great strides moved him down the left path and to a door that had the Adeptus Mechanicus skull and gear emblazoned upon it. The door hissed and then slid into the ceiling. The temperature rose dramatically and bright light poured into the hallway. Julius's enhanced eyes instantaneously adjusted to the bright light and he stepped into the room. His vision cleared and he saw his surroundings, he stood on a balcony over looking an impressive armory, every high adamantine wall meticulously cleaned and cared for.

Above the steel grill floor, bolters sat in long racks, each carefully polished and battle ready. Lovingly repaired suits of power armor were set onto stands awaiting battle, and a mere few suits of nigh impregnable terminator armor were disassembled and being polished by serfs in their work stations. In the center of the workings and seemingly doing one hundred things at once was the ship's Master of the Forge, Techmarine Hephaestus.

The Techmarine's power armor had the silver lining his battle-brothers had, but in the place of the bronze was a deep red. He always wore his power armor, even at work and Julius silently wondered if he still could remove the ceremite suit. Those under the Machine God took to strange ideas about implants.

Two of the servo-arms on his backpack were swiftly tapping buttons on a control panel with machine precision, while the lower two were firmly holding the Techmarine steady by gripping the floor with splayed ceremite fingers. Hephaestus himself was reverently working on an ancient suit of artificer armor, his gauntleted hands sprouting mini-lascutters, and tiny wetware interfaces from his fingers. Julius stepped down the steel stairs and onto the armory floor. He walked toward the Techmarine. Hephaestus did not look up.

"No." Hephaestus's voice was harsh and mechanical as he spoke through his helmet.

Julius stood for a moment puzzled. "No? I have not even asked a question yet Hephaestus."

The helmeted head of Hephaestus never moved from his task. "Nevertheless, the answer is still no."

Julius smiled. "And what was I going to ask then brother?" The Techmarine paused for a moment. His servo-arms momentarily paused in their tasks, clicked and Hephaestus spoke.

"Your weapons are finished and I had a serf deliver them unto you not more than six hours ago, you know idle prattle annoys me so that cannot be the reason. We are not in battle, the alarms have not gone off, and I would know if something serious in the ship needs fixing, for I am connected to the ship's machine spirit as we speak. That leaves only one option to me, you came about your armor, as you have for the past two times in the last twenty two hours. I am not yet finished but I will be if you just have _patience_." Hephaestus moved his fingers slowly over the chest of the artificer armor, the tiny tools from his gauntlets meticulously repairing every imperfection.

The lower two of the Hephaestus's arms pushed themselves off of the steel grill floor like living metal extensions of the Techmarine. The servo-arms maneuvered past their controller's busy hands to remove energy cables attached to the artificer armor. Smaller clamps unfolded from the bulkier fingers, and with amazing gentleness unhooked the cables from their sockets. As the lower arms prepared the armor, the upper arms worked themselves. The heavy, but agile clamps ceased their toil on the control panel and lowered down to begin unhooking thick cables from surrounding machinery. These cables sprouted from the Techmarine's belt and had connected him to the room's security systems, that way he could focus on his work and know all that happened in his armory.

After the arms had finished their task they folded up neatly and precisely onto the Techmarine's huge back-slung power plant. Hephaestus retracted the minute tools from his fingertips back into their tiny slots and, with a mother's tenderness, picked up the intricate suit of artificer armor with both arms. He turned and walked toward Julius.

The armor was magnificent, it had taken four generations of tech adepts and artisans to forge each unbreakable design. The technology to recreate the armor was lost in the archives of Mars, but the Space Marines had the resources to repair it. The backpack that contained a mini harnessed-nuclear power plant had battles from long ago carved into it. Golden Imperial eagles were embossed into the tops of the gauntlets, and the knee guards were shaped into kite shields. The Chapter's two-tailed comet stood out across the breast plate and right shoulder in bronze. In the place of the normal bronze color this suit had been blessed with a rare alloy know as Eanorium which shown like gold when polished, but with one hundred times the strength. The helmet was not the standard issue, for it was the helm of Lucius Verile, the first captain of the Brazen Comets.

It was an ancient helm from before the great crusades from Terra, and to the Techpreists its making was a complete mystery. It had the simple shape of a medieval great helm but the technology in it was tightly packed so it could store vast amounts of information, even years worth of data. The helmet had been very intricately tooled, around the top of the head the ceremite had etched laurels, and around its base the Emperor's prayer had been carved with the smallest las-cutter available. The armor had been worn by every Captain in the seventh company for two thousand years.

Hephaestus held the armor to display his work. "Your armor is now repaired, and its spirit pleased Captain. I will send the armor to your quarters, a serf will bring it on a repulse-lift."

Julius shook his head. "The _Inquisitor_ wishes to see me on the bridge. I will don my armor here and be on my way." The Techmarine nodded and led Julius to an armor encasing chamber located in the back of the armory. Hephaestus noted the venom in his captain's words when speaking of the Inquisitor, but said nothing. The Techmarine walked into the white cylindrical room first and activated a stasis field. The blue energy field came down from the room's ceiling and the Techmarine placed the armor into the light. He pulled his arms away from the armor, and the shining suit floated inside that azure light. No time passed in a stasis field so the armor had no time to fall. Hephaestus stepped aside allowing the captain access to the room. "Brother-Captain you armor awaits." Julius nodded and entered the room. A door slid shut from the right and the chamber was sealed. The Techmarine walked over to the encasement room control panel and tapped out a quick code into a key pad. A confirmation rune glowed on the panel, signaling the activation of the Captain's chamber.

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Captain Julius began the Litany of Honored War gear, as the chamber powered up. The Captain stripped and placed his leathers and tabard into collection bin built into the wall. Julius finished his prayer, and breathed deep to find relaxation, then stood straight and spread his arms. The stasis field holding the armor changed harmonics and expanded with an electrical hum until the entire chamber glowed with the field, as if it was under water. The Space Marine captain was slowly lifted off his feet and a body-sized holographic image of himself fizzed to life before him. Sections of the figure in the hologram flashed red and small floating notes wrote themselves in the air by the red parts. The suit of armor assumed the same position as Julius and remained still. Dozens of small robotic arms unfolded themselves from the smooth wall of the chamber, and began taking apart the ancient armor apart at the joints and seams. Every part that was separated from the rest of the armor was set loose and began floating in the chamber, and soon the completely disassembled armor began floating freely around Julius like planets in orbit. The small arms then began snatching random part of the armor out of the air and began placing the components on their correct spot on Julius himself. With each part placed the hologram-Julius also gained armor, small notes written in High Gothic appearing beside each new holographic armor piece. The mini servo-arms carefully and swiftly attached the armor's components, stitching fabricated muscle fibers together and then placing the sheets of ceremite over them. Highly detailed auto-reactive shoulder guards clicked into place, and leg armor connected with knee joints with small snaps. The last piece put into place was the ancient helm, the red HUD blinking into life as soon as it connected with the top of his head. The stasis field deactivated and the now fully armored Julius stood on his own two feet.

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He stepped over to the small collection bin and pulled his clothes from it. The door hissed open and the light form the armory flooded in. "My Captain, are you now prepared?" the harsh rasping voice of Hephaestus was a drastic change from the silence of the encasement chamber. Julius removed his helm and held it in the crook of his arm. "Yes Brother, I will go see the Inquisitor now."

"Don't bother." A new voice snapped. A crooked figure surrounded by a group of half machine servitors came through the room. The mindless once-humans bumped into the armory serfs and knocked over suits of power armor as they made their uneven path after their master. Julius glanced over to Hephaestus whose helmeted head stared straight at the oncoming arrivals. The Captain knew the Techmarine well enough to know that he must be seething under his helmet.

The man leading the bumbling servitors was old, and by all rights looked as though he should have been dead for years, but to an Inquisitor Juvient drugs were always available. His hunched body was covered by a long black coat, and under that was a layer of a shirt and vest. A long scarf was wrapped around his sagging turkey-like neck. His head was balding with frizzled white hair sticking out of the sides. Thick brows jutted over small sunken eyes, and in his thin gnarled hand was an ebony cane topped with a brass skull. "When an Inquisitor gives a command it shall be done, quickly and without question!" the thin old man snapped. It took much of Julius's patience to keep himself from tossing the Inquisitor out of an airlock. "I was just on my way to the bridge, Inquisitor Gerig, I merely wished to see if my armor had been repaired." The spiteful figure before sneered at him. "Hmph. If you are done wasting my time follow me to the bridge." The crooked man shoved aside one of his servitors and hobbled through the armory workshop and out the door. His retinue of servitors clanked after him, causing minor damage on their way out. Julius actively tried to keep his temper. Inquisitors may have nearly absolute power, but he was the Captain of a Space Marine Company. He deserved respect.

He turned to Hephaestus. "Fare well my friend." Hephaestus nodded, his hands making the sign of the Machine. "May the Ominassah watch over you, Captain." The Techmarine turned back to his work station and began repairing a badly damaged suit of power armor. On his way out Julius heard Hephaestus begin the Incantation of Activation, then the door hissed shut.

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The Bridge of the _Annihilatus _seemed to be part battleship control room, part medieval temple. The ceiling was high and domed, with scenes from the Emperor's great crusades upon it. The front of the bridge was round, with a serf manning a post ever two meters. Gothic arches carved with the Imperial eagle separated each work station, and the stations themselves were in an archaic manner. In the center of the bridge a podium with a command throne stood and on the throne sat Commander Xavior Meteal. The commander looked the average for a Space Marine in build and shape, but his role was very different. He was wired into the ship's Machine Spirit, and essentially became the ship. Because of this connection he could freely control the ship with the grace he once moved his body with. The engines powered up and the weapons fired at his command. Instead of using bolter rounds as he once did, he fired proton bombs and melta torpedoes. He had single handedly crushed enemy ships, and even fallen hive cities with mountain leveling barrages. Near the Command throne stood his Captain, the Inquisitor and his servitors. Currently they were speaking of battle tactics.

"The Emperor's Holy Inquisition has tasked me with a very interesting assignment." Gerig said. He raised a gnarled hand and snapped his fingers quickly three times. One of the Servitors deposited a small round device in his hand. Muttering. Gerig placed the thing on the floor and stepped back. The object flashed twice and a hologram of a planetary system rose to head height. "This is our objective, the Kilagose system. It's third planet is know as yemark and that is where we are headed." The third planet was enlarged until it filled the hologram. Gerig to a deep rattling breath. "This world is currently under attack by the forces of the traitor Space marine chapter the Word Bearers." Julius grimaced at the mention of the traitors, they were a dishonor that could never be atoned for.

"Your ship Captain will scan the world until the warp signature we are looking for appears, once it is found we will go down to the planet and extract it." Julius stepped over the holographic projector, distorting the image until he was out of the hologram. "What exactly is this warp signature Inquisitor? A planetary governor? A captured General? Or another inquisitor perhaps?" Gerig snorted and began a wheezing high pitched laugh. "No, Captain _nothing_ like that, we are capturing a Chaos Lord." Were Julius any other of the emperor's servants, not a Space Marine he would probably have laughed into the Inquisitor's face. "A Chaos lord." "Yes Captain, a Chaos Lord, one "Dominik Deathreach" I think." Julius stood silently, if he had thought the Inquisitor insane before this now confirmed it. Gerig gave a swift whistle and the hologram fizzled and shrunk back into the projector, a servitor picked it up as Gerig turned to Julius. "Here is what you will do, a large force of your men maybe fifty marines will assault the nearest base of operations near the target, this will be a distraction. You and a select group of yours will meet them head on and you will drive him north to me. I will have a trap ready." Gerig turned to the still silent Captain. "You have an issue with my plan Captain?" The Inquisitor said with arrogant disdain. Julius breathed deep trying to expel his mounting frustration. His voice was calm to start with but steadily grew in intensity. "Inquisitor Gerig, You want me to agree with your plan, but you also are telling me to send fifty Marines on a suicide mission so you can capture some heretic who would better serve us dead anyway. My men are not to be so carelessly sacrificed." "I do not like your tone _Captain_, I expect that this is because you have not fought Chaos as long as I have. This new Warlord has terrorized five systems in recent years and has created cults among four others, if we do not stop him this whole sector could fall within a mere three decades.". How long until we reach Yemark, Ensign?" One of the serfs manning the control panels swiveled his chair to face the Inquisitor and saluted. "We will be in low orbit of the planet with in three hours sir." Gerig snorted and went off out the door muttering. His throng of Servitors followed him out. Julius nodded to the Ensign. "Good work." The Serf saluted and returned to his task. Julius turned and left the bridge. It was time for pre-battle prayer.

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"We are the Emperor's strong right arm, the Angels of Death! Fear incarnate!" Chaplain Manoroc stood on a podium at the front of the Battle barges chapel. The entire seventh company was before him. The armored bodies of the marines kneeled in prayer, and standing proudly in the back of the huge chapel were the company's two dreadnoughts, brothers Zachariah, and Saul. Chaplain Manoroc's voice was rich and the words boomed from his mouth with sheer determination and zeal. His death-black armor was silver lined like his battle brothers, but had skull motifs decorating every joint in the armor. His tanned face was heavily scarred, and where his ears had been bionic replacements were now. His deep brown eyes showed nothing but solid faith in his cause and hatred for all who were his enemies. "All who defy the Emperor's will, shall be purged!"

"Purged with Holy Flame!" the congregation of armored marines shouted, the Dreadnaughts careful to not drown out their brothers with their loud speakers.

"Whom so ever shall take which is his, shall be cleansed!"

"Cleansed with purifying faith!"

"And they who consort with the vile forces of his foes, shall be killed!"  
"Killed by we, the Emperor's judgment made manifest!"

"And how shall they be killed?"

"Without pity, without mercy. Completely and utterly!"

"How can the alien stand before us?"

"It cannot!"

"How can the witch taint us?"  
"It cannot!"

"How can the mutant terrify us?"

"It cannot!" Julius shouted with his brothers. He was kneeled, his thunder hammer held before him. He had never missed a single one of Manoroc's sermons, and being here and now made it difficult to believe that the Chaplain's voice had even more power on the battlefield.

Manoroc waited until silence filled the vast room, he then kneeled, and bowed his head. The Marines in the front row could just hear words of a hymn coming from the Chaplain. Slowly Manoroc's voice rose in volume and the words could be heard clearly by those near the Chaplain. The marines joined in the hymn and their brothers further back heard and joined into the Hymn of the Emperor, Julius and the rest of his brothers added their voices. The sound of their voices rose through out the room and the sound echoed around the vaunted ceiling and amplified the hymn, making it seem to gain power until it seemed to have always been part of the chapel. Julius focused with all his might on a prayer to the Emperor, and while he sang the words his mind struggled with how to word the prayer. He merely had a feeling is all, a bad feeling. Something about this mission seemed not right. Julius shook the thoughts from his head and discarded them. A Space marine knew no doubt or fear. The hymn ended, when the sounds finally died away Mannaoroc stood and began his final words. Julius answered correctly whenever the Chaplain shouted a challenge out, but the Captain's heart was not in it. Something about this mission disturbed him, but he did not know what.

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As soon as the _Annihilatus_ entered low-orbit of Yemark, the battlebarge scanned the hemisphere facing them for Chaos activity, and when ever a base was found without the Warlord's warp signature, the _Annihilatus_ would open fire with a volley of melta- torpedoes and reduce the land below to smoke clouds and cinders. Julius stood in the drop pod boarding bay and watched his men climb aboard their drop pods. He turned to his own drop pod, it had one seat only and was designed for commanders of high status. The ceremite heat shield on the bottom of his drop pod had been cleaned and meticulously repaired be a team of tech servitors, for atmospheric entry brutalized any material passing through it. Julius placed the helm on his head, the red HUD display instantly becoming active and began identifying the space marines around him. Small words wrote themselves on his field of vision over his men, showing their name, rank, any honors they had won, and their years of service. He turned to his pod and readied himself for the trip. The drop pods were not made for comfort, but to deliver warriors into battle so there was nothing inside the bronze exterior but a plassteel seat and restraints. As he strapped himself into the seat the blast shield doors slowly closed before him like a gigantic adamantium flower and the pod's interior went dark. A moment passed, and there was a sudden jolt through the pod as it was pulled downwards into its launching slot. A serfs' voice crackled into the vox speaker in his helmet. "Prepare for orbital launch and entry. Launch initiated in five….four… Julius took slow deep breaths, no matter how many times he used these pods he would never get used to them. "…two…one… Launch initiated."

Julius grimaced as the tiny pod was released into the empty black vacuum of space, the initial ejection was never a pleasant experience. For a moment in the vast silence, he drifted utterly helpless in his small pod. A small red light flashed on inside his pod accompanied by a small high pitched beep from his vox speaker in his helm. Julius counted out two seconds and there was a slight jolt, and though he could not see them, he knew that the stabilizing fins had engaged. There was a slight rumbling above him, which was the short burst propulsion engine coming online. There seemed to be no movement from the pod, until a deep vibrating from beneath his feet drowned out the shaking of the pod's engine. Julius remembered, over two centuries ago, when he had been briefed by a Mechano-tutor on the dangers of using the drop pod. The artificial voice drifted past his mind's ears. "…To those on the planet surface, the descending pods should stand out like a small meteor shower, so they are easy targets to enemy gunners with suitable arms..." Julius mentally shook aside the memories.

Julius concentrated on one hymn, and then switched to another in an attempt to ignore the great discomfort. He had read about thrill rides from Terra's ancient past called "roller-coasters", and how many of them tried to simulate the experience he was feeling. Those creations had nothing in common with what he was going through right then. The drop pod began to shake violently, and according to his HUD the temperature inside the pod was swiftly growing greater. Julius was a warrior of the Emperor, and no foe caused any fear in him. However the thought of death in the small metal shell of the drop pod, going at meteoric speeds, blazing like a flare, with no possible way to survive if the worst did happen, distilled small pieces of the emotion. As if sensing the fears, the HUD inside Julius's helm began pointing out in small red letters exactly where the drop pod was most likely to have a hole punched through the armor by the now enormous heat and friction of the atmospheric entry. Julius closed his eyes and began reciting the fifty duties of the Space Marine.

By the time he reached number forty-four the repulse jets at his feet fired, slowing his fall from meteoric velocity down into safer speeds. The pod slammed into the ground with force sufficient to shatter a normal man's bones. Julius's enhanced body and armor absorbed the blow as a small stumble. The small red light turned green and the adamantine door before him hissed, fell open and broke the ground where it landed. The catch on his restraints snapped apart and Julius ran out through the open door and out into Yemark's sunlight.

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The sun was setting in the west, distant mountain creating the horizon. The war zone Julius just dropped into might have once been a cathedral plaza, the cobblestone road beneath his drop pod had been powdered by the impact and then glazed by the heat. Towering marble statues of saints lined the circular plaza and heavily detailed temples stood between each huge statue. The place must have been serene when the Emperor's devout priests and worshippers worked and lived here. Now many of the great statues stone heads lay in ruins at their feet. Hideous eight pointed stars had been erected in their place, and in the center of each star hung a sacrificed body, the victim's blood trickling down the once beautiful edifices. The temples, once filled with harmonized voices giving praise to the Emperor, now were desecrated by the slaughter of innocents, their corpses pierced with blackened hooks and were swaying from the temple pillars with chains fastening them there. The captain uttered prayer for the souls of those before him with piety, and in the same breath promised most horrible vengeance upon the ones who had done this. Three ground shaking thuds behind him heralded the arrival of more drop pods. Julius turned to see ten of his brothers leave their pods, and from the third on came Venerable Dreadnought Saul. The once-fallen hero stood three times taller than Julius, his bronze armored body gleaming in the setting sun. His right arm was a crackling power claw taken from the Ork Nob who had nearly killed him and placed him in this adamantium shell, his left arm was a deadly twin linked Las-cannon, with which he was not known to miss. Julius drew his power sword and strode to his brothers. The space marines bowed with reverence, The dreadnought acknowledged his captain with a salute from his claw arm. "Brother Saul, are you picking up any hostiles on you're auspex?" Julius asked. Saul stood unmoving for a moment and then spoke with a deep amplified voice. "Yes captain, inside the temple to our right, two degrees north, by four degrees east. Be advised Captain, the workings of Chaos have befouled my instruments before." Julius nodded. "I understand. Come my brothers, let us send these heretics the Emperor's judgment!" The armored figures placed their hands over their hearts for a short moment and raced down the direction s provided by the dreadnought. Where the Marines ceremite boots cracked the cobblestones beneath them with each step Saul's feet utterly obliterated the pathway, leaving great pillar-like footprints forever marking his passage. Julius ran forward, he could almost smell the combat. He raced passed the decapitated statue of a female saint, and gracefully leapt up the temples steps. A large brass bound door was closed over an arch like doorway. Julius stopped his charge and slowed to a stop before the door. The sight that greeted his eyes would burn itself into his memory forever.

A small child had been killed, and nailed to the blood soaked wood of the door. Horrible, but not lethal wounds were lashed into the clothed body, showing that the child had died from either the pain or blood loss. An evil eight-pointed star had been craved into the flesh and bone of child's forehead. Julius's men caught up behind their captain, Saul stopped at the temple steps. One brother placed an armored hand on his Captain's shoulder. "They will be punished Captain. Not one heretic on this planet will escape, not one." "If not by us, by the Emperor himself." Julius muttered. He had witnessed much evil in his service to the Emperor, he had seen friends pulled open and eaten by the vile Tyranids, He had personally witnessed a torture session done by the sadistic Dark Edar. But to Julius all of the evil in the galaxy can to nothing when compared to the dead child before him. He stepped toward the body. "Saul are you still picking up the enemy inside this building?" The deep voice of the dreadnought answered a moment later. "Yes captain." Julius began a prayer for the child's soul and placed a hand on one of the nails to remove it. "Captain, my sensors are picking up a large energy sur-!" The carved eight-pointed star glowed and the small body began to change. A hideous sucker-like mouth opened on the body's chest and a slimy purple tongue lashed out and grabbed Julius by the wrist. The Deamon–thing had a horrifying streangth, the tongue cracking the ceremite around Julius's gauntlet. Julius flicked the activation rune on his hammer. An energy field like white fire spread across its head, and the captain brought it down onto his attacker, crushing bones and breaking teeth from the mouth. The deamon–thing shrieked and let go of the captain's wrist. The monster began wailing from both mouths and more hideous mutations spread across the possessed body. Julius backed off and never turned his eyes from the possessed body. "Men, kill it." The Space Marines stepped past their leader, leveled their bolters and opened fire. Mass-reactive bolter rounds punched through the ruined body and detonated inside it, quickly reducing it to tiny splattered goblets of meat. Behind them came the electrical explosion of las-cannons firing. "Captain! It's a trap!" Saul's voice boomed. Julius and his marines turned to see forces of their enemy closing in.

The Word Bearers were of Chaos Undivided, so all four of the Dark gods were with them, and they had sent a small army of Deamons to kill the Space Marines. Tall, horned Bloodletter deamons marched alongside putrid rotting servents of the plague god Nurgle. Sensuous half-naked deamonets of Slannesh clicked their wicked crab like claws to an unheard beat, and form-shifting Horrors of Tezeech scrabbled behind them. Julius raised his glowing weapon. "See men, the cowards will not face the Emperor's wrath themselves! Let us show them the folly of sending the likes of these against us!" The Marines aimed their bolters and let loose a hail of rounds. Saul charged into the throng of deamons, his massive adamantine bulk crashed through their lines like a juggernaut. His power claw and las-cannons reaping a great toll on his foes. Julius ran toward a dancing deamonet. The creature cackled and tried to snip off his head with its left claw. The Space marine ducked under the claw and broke it's leg savagely off at the knee. The deamon tumbled and shrieked giving Julius enough time to pulverize it's skull with his armored boot. A Plague-bearer of Nurgle, coated in flies, squelched toward him, gurgling a battle cry from leprous lips. The rebreathers in Julius's helmet blocked out the disease that were undoubtedly coming off the deamon, but did nothing to stop the thing's sickening odor. The energy wreathed head of his hammer smashed into the deamons side, the energy field ate away the bloated strained flesh there, spilling rotting organs and small crawling deamons. The Plague-bearer opened its mouth and thick bubbled of mucus foamed from between rotted teeth. The monster raised its crude sickle-like weapon to continue fighting, and Julius drew his bolt pistol. He fired the bullet straight into its cataract covered eye, the round then detonated blowing out the back of the deamon's skull. The plague-bearer fell to the ground dead. Something heavy slammed into his backpack and Julius was knocked to the ground. He rolled over and blocked the massive descending axe of a Bloodletter of Khorn with hishammer. The white fire of his blessed weapon fought against the hellsteel of the murderous axe. The red-skinned monster laughed over it's soon to be victory, until its back was shredded by bolter fire. The deamon dissolved into blood and Julius stood up again. He smashed his hammer into another demonet and made a note to himself to thank his men greatly. He continued fighting, and to his right he heard Saul's brutal rampage. The Dreadnought declared loudly that the deamons were blasphemy given form and an insult to the Emperor. If anything the words made the Monsters all the more eager to fight. Julius spun on his feet and decapitated a charging deamon with a powerful blow. He moved his head side to side looking for more to fight, but all that remained of the deamons was thick bubbling ichor splattered all over the now wrecked plaza. A final demon was in Saul's merciless grasp. The Tezeechen Horror squealed and writhed in the shimmering power claw. Saul aimed his upper las-cannon barrel carefully and vaporized the top of the monster's head. Julius relaxed his stance, Saul and his Marines cheered at their victory. If Julius had not been told the plan within the Inquisitor's plan he would have joined them. The cheering stopped at the sound of clapping. Not congratulatory clapping, but slow almost mocking, applause. Julius turned to the source. Standing upon the severed stone neck of a statue stood a sight that would terrify most men.

The figure stood as tall as any Space Marine, but the gore red armor had been twisted, and defiled almost past the point of recognition. The helmet had horns very much like a Blood-letter's and the eye slits were changed until the occupant of the armor saw the world through an eight-pointed star. Thick spikes stuck out of the armor in random places, and from the crusting blood on them it could be guessed that these were regularly used as weapons. On one huge shoulder pad was another eight-pointed star but with a deamon's head the center, the head snarled and spat, its evil eyes rotating to look at the Space Marines. The figure stopped clapping. "Well fought, warriors of the corpse-god, but here you will die none the less." The Figure jumped off of the statue and the ground cracked when he landed. Red warp energy surrounded the figure like an aura. "I am the one known as Deathreach, and I bring you the Word of Chaos. Against that, your False-Emperor stands not a hope." Dominik death reach's voice was like that of a deamon's, smooth, convincing and had an undertone that screamed how evil the owner of the voice really was. The shadows cast by the statues and temples grew thicker and tainted. Out from them stepped tall corrupted Space Marines, each carrying bolters and knives "blessed" by their dark gods. They all had gore red armor like their lord, and most had some form of horrible mutation upon them. The Chaos lord raised his gauntleted hand to his side, evil energies flowed across his armored hand and formed a massive brutal axe in his hand the weapon had all four symbols of the Chaos Gods burned into it, and what looked like jagged teeth sprouted from the edge. "You will now die, warriors of the corpse-god." "You will die before I do _traitor_!" Julius shouted and rushed towards Dominik, hammer raised. The Chaos Lord readied his axe and chargd as well. As the two giants among mortals clashed, Saul and the Space Marines opened fire into their fallen brethren. Only the blazing beams from Saul's Las-cannons ensured swift deaths among the Chaos Marines, the bolter rounds from either side merely ricocheted off of thick ceremite power armor, or cursed deamonic armor. The two sides fought vigorously, just as their masters did.

"Heretic!" Julius shouted. He emphasized the word with a blow from his brutal weapon. Dominik deflected it with his axe. "Heretic? No, I just found the truth." Julius roared and lashed out with his blade. Dominik merely dodged with a small change of stance. "If Chaos is so weak, how come you have yet to land a blow on me?" The Chaos Lord swung, aiming for the captain's head. Julius reversed his hammer, and ducked within the strike, he then smashed his fist into the side of Dominik's helmet. Julius returned his hammer back to it's normal stance and slammed the glowing weapon into the chest plate of his enemy. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the Chaos Lord's helmet and a large bowl shaped crater was in his breastplate. Dominik turned his head back to Julius. "Good strike confused one, but you really must try harder than that." Dominiks free hand clenched into a fist and slammed it under The Captain's ribcage. As Julius was tossed up by the huge force of the blow the Chaos lord spun on his feet and then struck him again, but with the flat of his axe, sending the Space Marine sailing into the base of a statue. Dominik looked at the damage to his armor. "You _really _must try harder."

Julius could feel that some ribs were broken. And if it wasn't for his genetic enhancement he probably would have some internal bleeding too. The HUD in his helm created a small diagram of his armor and informed him of how his abdominal plates were cracked and needed maintenance in small red letters. He looked up to see The Chaos lord staring down at him. "Stubborn fool. Why do you reject the Word of Chaos?" Julius kicked out with his left leg and knocked Dominik's legs out from under him. As the Chaos lord hit the ground Julius was already back up. Julius readied himself when the background noise of the fighting ended. The Dominik got to his feet. "I am afraid we will not be able to finish this fight for I am needed else where, but your soul still will serve Chaos." Julius looked around to see that all of his marines were dead, their armor cracked and broken, even Saul's great armored bulk was unmoving on the ground. Chaos marines and lesser Deamons steped over his brother's corpses and toward him with a blood thirsty swagger to their walk. "My warrior's will kill you in my stead. Fare well, warrior of the corpse-god." Dominik stepped back as his warriors closed in for the kill. Julius commended his soul to the Emperor, and prepared to take many of them with him. Then from above, there was a loud mechanical screaming noise. There was the small cracks of small arms' fire and enemies fell to the ground with bloody holes in them. Several metallic figures flashed by, jet turbines of their jump packs producing the mechanical screaming and trailing a thin white smoke. A squad of Brazen Comet Assault Marines armed with chainswords and bolt pistols fell out of the sky, and onto the Chaos forces. Leading their way was the Black armored form of Chaplain Manoroc. The Chaplain's comet emblazoned crozius arcanum hung from his belt and in its place he wore over sized gauntlets, with small blades sprouting from the knuckles. The Chaplain's skull shaped helmet grinned mercilessly at the Chaos marines. The worshippers of the dark gods stood for a moment making a circle around the Chaplain. Fire like energy blazed from Manoroc's lightning claws. "Which traitor will face me first?" he asked.

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The Chaos Lord Dominik Deathreach ran through the ruined hive city. Behind him he could here the sound of his minion's being ripped apart by the unenlightened warriors of the false Emperor. Why did this always happen to him? He had led his Word Bearers legions from system to system, showing many the path to Chaos. He was favored by the Dark Gods themselves, why has everything failed him as of late? Deep with in him he knew the answer, ever since Abaddon's latest Black Crusade. Ever since he failed.

He had been given the unholy rank of Dark Apostle and the command of a small fleet, and he was charged to make sure that the Orks from the clan Wotdoesdisbuttondoo held up to their end of the deal and made surprise attacks on Cadian shipping lines. The mission was simple, but when not only had the Orks changed their minds and decided to attack his fleet instead of the agreed target, the Black crusade had failed by the time he got back to the Eye of Terror and the other Dark Apostles had used him as a scapegoat for the catastrophic defeat. He was demoted, ridiculed, but he knew the gods still favored him. Why else had he been led to such prime worlds ripe for the corrupting, even if his plans suddenly dissolved because of unforeseen problems. Which reminded himself of this world, Yemark. His Sorcerer and Rouge psykers had told him that there was no indication of failure here. There were Planetary defense troops, and they were easy enough to kill, or be shown the truth, but Space Marines? How could his Sorcerers miss them? It was as if, he of all people, had been denied favor from Chaos! Even his armor had not yet healed itself as it had before, the deamon possessing it refused to heal the damage.

Dominik fled north, into a small copse of trees. The shadows caused by the leaves danced past as he hurried through. Almost a kilometer ahead there would be one of his bases, he would take refuge there. He exited the trees and into an open field. In the distance massive towers of smoke rose into the air, and small cinder began to fall like light black snow. The Chaos Lord slowed his run to a stop. At the back of the field stood a small figure leaning on a cane. "I have been waiting for you _Chaos lord_." The old man sneered.

Dominik smailed beneath his helmet and hefted his axe, at least he will be able to sacrifice this one to his gods. The Chaos Lord rushed the small old man axe raised. The old man's eye's glowed blue and he raised his left hand. Pain like Dominik never knew flooded through him, it was ice cold and at the same time burned with white hot intensity. The Chaos Lord stumbled and fell to the ground writhing. It was like death multiple times over, utterly complete, breaking pain. The old man hobbled forward on his cane. "Stupid, very stupid." muttered the man. "It is _never_ wise to attack an Inquisitor so boldly." Dominik's vision went dark and the pain vanished.

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Julius stood outside an interrogation viewing cell. Beside him slumped Inquisitor Gerig. The captain had had his armor fixed and was wearing it now. His hammer hung from his belt and his bolt pistol was holstered. "Congratulations Inquisitor, you have your prize." Gerig nodded. "The Inquisition will find him most… interesting Captain." Inside the cell the still unconscious Chaos Lord was having his armor removed by the Inquisitor's servitors. The armor had been as a second skin and was not meant to be removable, but with machine precision, the Servitor's las-scalpels and servo clamps peeled off the tainted armor. "The armor will be locked into a blessed room with its own void shields-" "Much like your cell here?" interrupted Gerig. "Yes Inquisitor, just like our cells." "Good. Tell me, when do we go to Warp?" said Gerig never taking his eyes off of the operation inside the room. "One moment Inquisitor." Julius brought a finger up to armor's large collar and pressed a sunken button. In his ear a tiny speaker crackled. "Yes brother-captain?" said a small voice. "How soon to warp?" Julius spoke into a small microphone in his collar. "The Navigator is readying himself as we speak my lord." "Thank you." The speaker crackled again and went silent. "Not long now Inquisitor." 'Perfect, now leave. I must…entertain my guest." The old man cackled at his own joke and entered the room. Julius focused on a prayer of cleansing as he turned to leave the room. He did not enjoy watching torture, not even on one so deserving.

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Dominik awoke to a fire-like pain that traced his entire body. He opened his eyes, and to his surprise his helmet was gone. His arms and legs had been tied each to a corner of a large plassteel table. Raising his head he saw that all over his armor had been stripped off of him, only a large white piece of cloth covered his waist to his knees. The cloth was soaked in his blood. His armor had been his skin since it was placed on him all those centuries ago. So he now his muscles and flesh were open to the air. He tried to relax, for he had suffered much worse at the hands of his deamonic masters. He heard muttering around him, and he strained his skinless head around to find the mutterer. At his feet the hunched old man stood dropping something on the floor. "Who are you, wait it matters not, for when my masters find out about this your pain will be my pain ten fold!" The old man stopped his muttering and began to laugh, it was high pitched and halting. "Your masters?! HA! Tell me Dominik _Deathreach_." The man composed himself "W-who do you think led you on a wild grox chase from planet to planet, severely cutting down your forces with failed Crusades, until you were weak enough to crush on some back water spit of land?" Dominik looked at the hunched figure. "Wait it can't be…"

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The door to the bridge hissed open at Julius's approach. "I swear, if all Inquisitors were like him, the entire Imperium would be no better than some xeno empire." Commander Xavior smiled from his command throne. When the Captain spoke like that it usually meant a fight would happen soon. A serf turned to face Xavior from his station. "My lord The Navigator reports as ready." Unable to nod in response, Xavior merely entered the warp space programs and activated the void shields.

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Gerig smiled. "So servants of the warp can see it. Interesting." To Dominik's eyes the Inquisitor's entire frame was permeated with warp energy. The smile faded from Gerig's face. "The Dark Gods are very irritated with you _Dark Apostle_." Gerig sneered as he did before. "They had to send me to destroy you, to think that all of the other agents sent after you failed. It would make one who had not seen Chaos itself despair." Gerig chuckled and pulled some dust from his pocket. "They also said that who catches you and sacrifices you to them will be granted deamonhood. Glowing chaotic symbols appeared on the Inquisitor's body and he dropped the dust in his hand. It changed when it hit the floor, and became an eight pointed star. "These runes are annoying but they are also necessary." Gerig circled the condemned lord dropping his chaotic dust and chanting a spell. The dust turned multiple colors from midnight black to florescent pink as it turned into more symbols, each one painful to look at. When the circle was finished Dominik felt reality being pulled thin around them. Gerig smiled as an eight pointed star glowed on his forehead. "Now all we need is for the good captain to take us into the Warp."

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Blast shields closed over the viewing ports all over the ship and shadow like void shields activated covering the ship in a tinted cocoon. The bridge was silent as the Warp inducers tore reality apart in front of the ship and the _Annihilatus_ was pulled into the madness of the immaterium. Julius stood by the command throne and waited. Finally one of the serfs turned to him. "We are now fully into the warp my lord." Julius nodded, and left the bridge. Something did not feel right, but even in the deamonic realm of the warp the emperor would hear his prayers. The captain made his way to the chapel.

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The dust runes blazed powerfully, and the threads of the material reality more swiftly unraveled. Gerig reached into his coat and pulled out a long spindly dagger, and he held it above his head and chanted hysterically. "For the wisdom of Tzeench I give my soul!" The dust symbol of Tzeench glowed brighter "For the pleasure of Slannesh, I give my life!" The symbol of the pleasure and pain god blazed with power. "For the fear of Nurgle-" Dominik sent what power he had through to his right arm, this fool thought he could kill a Chaos Lord like a lamb for slaughter? Gerig pointed the dagger at Dominik's chest. "And for the strength of Khorn, I give another's blood!!" The dagger and Khorn's symbol flashed into life. Gerig brought his arm back and his arm sliced down towards Dominik's chest. The rope around Dominik's straining right hand snapped, and the Chaos lord grabbed the dagger before it could touch him, reversed it and buried it into Gerig's chest. The Inquisitor looked surprised. "B-but… No…"

Deamons had been waiting outside the _Annihilatus's_ void shield to devour Dominik's soul, however when the Inquisitor's was made available in its stead, their masters did not stop them. To the gods of Chaos a proper sacrifice was fine, but an unexpected twist was far more interesting.

Inside the interrogation chamber a large sphere of deamonic power came into being. The proper ritual had been preformed, so the gods of chaos had to provide what they agreed to. Dominik cut away the rest of the ropes binding him, and stared into the energy. This was enough power to ascend to deamonhood. Dominik clamored off of the blood soaked slab and stumbled toward the sphere. His skinless body still dripped blood but he did not care anymore, the ability for vengeance was before him. He reached out a hand toward the power and he gasped as a flood of it washed over him, and began to remake him. The power was incredible, he could feel horns beginning to sprout from his scalp and new tougher skin covered his entire body. Small tusks began jutting from his mouth. The power was great, but then the energy pulled away. The sphere blazed brighter and vanished through a wall. Dominik opened his changed eyes. "What!?" he looked down at his changed body but focused on his right foot. It was bigger and claws began growing where nails had once been, but more importantly, his foot had scattered the symbol of Tzeench. Without the god of change he would not be transformed. And because the ritual had been halted the gods felt no more reason to hold to their word. Dominik screamed in frustration, a now vastly inhuman sound. But unknown to him, the power had not just gone anywhere, it had gone into the warp itself, where it gathered great power and now something the chaos gods did not intend or expect happened.

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The contorting energy raced through the ever shifting immaterium, gaining power as it passed through the warp. A wave of increased time shot thorough the senergy mass, speeding its power growth by several thousand years. The energy reached critical mass and began collapsing in upon itself. Ribbons of energy lanced off of it as the energy mass shrunk, killing masses of deamons with its power. The energy collapsed one final time and tore a huge hole through the insane reality of the warp. The hole was dark and acted as a black hole, and began pulling in all things around. The _Annihilatus _was no exception. The ships thrusters fought the great pull, until it fell through, and vanished into the dark…

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…The memories ceased passing through Julius's mind as the blackness creped over his eyes completely. The Captain was completely unconscious as his escape pod sailed through the air like a meteor. His pod passed over small villages and crashed into a thick forest, leaving a trail of shattered trees in its wake.

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Down on the planets surface many people watched the ship explode and send many fragment spinning down like falling stars. They wondered if this was a sign from their gods, or if this was a terrible new weapon made to kill them all. All night they watched the burning fragments, until no more fell.

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**Well there is part one. Tell me what you think, by pressing the review button. Please. If I royally messed up by your standards and you want to flame me, don't bother, but I will accept all constructive criticism with open arms. So if you want another chapter I need reviews. So thanks for reading, feel free to review now. Please. **


	2. the Metalman

**Alright, I didn't get many reviews for that last one, but then again this is my first Space marine fic. I'm sorry that the last chapter was so long, I promise they will be shorter. As for the story, this is where it should start to get good, so sit back and relax. **

**While you're at it, gimme a review. **

**I do not own any Warhammer stuff that could possibly get me money. **

**Long live Warhammer40K**- great name, and thanks I hope I do too.

**Extartius**- Thank you very much, I'll take your advice to heart.

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In the endless eddies and energy surges of the warp, countless deamons are spawned purely out of wayward thoughts, dreams, and nightmares. The greatest of these deamons are feared by all who know their names but even above these, greater powers existed in the warp. These entities are worshipped as gods, and as long as they were known and feared by mortals they would have power and life to be as such. Deep in the warp, a great ever-changing nebula of mutating and warping energy resided one of these terrible entities. The Chaos God Tzeentch surveyed time as the event-filled and irritatingly short past and the empty and endless future passed by.

The Chaos god was impossibly powerful, at his will lesser deamons came to be and others were annihilated for all eternity. To Tzeentch it was all the same, to destroy, to create, to corrupt, as long as change occurred. It watched as the tiny mortal ship was pulled into the much larger but still small hole in the warp. This was new, and more importantly, this was _change_. The pathetically small ship of mortals was pulled into the hole and vanished. And to Tzeentch's disappointment the hole too, fizzled and disappeared. With the momentary distraction gone, Tzeentch once again exercised his vision into the future and past, searching for the moment when it would inherit the universe. Then something that had never before happened, happened.

The Chaos god blinked in surprise.

To those who could see it, the future was like an endless blank canvas just waiting to come into existence, by comparison the past was tiny and had all history stuck down, available for Tzeench to read at its will. What caused the Chaos god to blink was that the past had become distorted. This had never happened before either. To Tzeench's eye the past changed. It became it's paradise for a moment, a place of constant, never ending alteration, and then switched to where Chaos god had been forgotten and had ceased to exist. The past was confused and distorted, the possible and impossible happened right after one another, and occasionally at the same time. Tzeentch had intended to do this itself when it ruled over the material realm, and maybe even the warp itself, but only once it managed to grow powerful enough to escape the affects of time all together.

The tiniest flicker, of the until now unknown feeling of fear, passed by the Chaos god, for time was the only law that it could not break.

Outside the warp, in the material realm, the changing of time was drastic. Reality would instantly change to however the past changed. Inside the warp, time moved very differently, in some spots of the warp it moved at great speed, in others it was sluggish and hardly passed at all. Possible futures passed and switched as a gigantic roulette wheel, spinning at insane speeds. The Chaos god did not want to think about what would happen if this corrupted time were to reach it. In the warp, time could be crushed to a crawl, but it could never be stopped. The God-deamon had to do something to save itself.

Tzeentch cast its mind to the depths of the past to find what had happened. The past was only corrupted back to a point, a time in which the Chaos god had much power. In Tzeentch's vast mind an explanation formed. The mortal-ship and that hole. The mortals could possibly succeed in changing the future, those thrice-accursed fools! The Chaos god wafted its world-spanning wings in frustration, sending terribly violent warp eddies through out its realm. Immeasurable power flooded through the Chaos god. No, it was not powerless. Nothing, especially mortals, cannot change it's fate, for it was fate's Architect! Tzeentch pondered its next move. The other gods would be slow to notice the change, each were too enwrapped in their own desires to care, and all three of them were far too stupid to understand the danger anyway. Tzeentch slowed time as far as he could around itself and thought out a plan to stop this dangerous time, and possibly…

It reached into the past, far into the past, until his will touched the existence of one of his greatest pawns. The Chaos god smiled for a moment, the action destroying millions of its slave deamons, the pawn was in the time were the past changed.

_Yes_, the Chaos God thought, _this could be to my advantage_.

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Julius awoke inside the cramped escape pod. He did not move for a few moments, and then he pulled his face to the small viewing window. Thin rays of light pierced through the adamantium reinforced crystal, and small bits of leaves and dirt were speckled across it. The Space marine's mind began working out where he was. _Leaves, I'm in a forest_. His enhanced eyes instantly adjusted to the light and he surveyed the landing site.

Outside small green fern-like plants grew lushly all over the ground. Julius turned to his right, and glanced at a panel by his shoulder to check the atmospheric gauges. The needles were bent and the glass gauge faces were smashed. This did not worry Juilus though, the gauges were primarily for any serfs who escaped, for not only a Space Marine's lungs could allow him to breathe even in the most toxic atmosphere, his helm could filter out anything too deadly for his lungs to handle. Julius stood back from the window and pulled the release catch at the pod's opening. The pod's hatch hissed, as it depressurized, and then swung open like a huge metal flower. Julius grabbed the hand holds at the door's edge and pulled his head out into the open. Looking from side to side he surveyed his surroundings around him, and right before him, he could see the path his pod had taken on the way down through the trees. The branches were broken and splintered in the diagonal slope of his pods passage.

Julius hoisted himself out of the crashed pod and he landed on the soft ground boots first. The red HUD inside his helm informed him that there was no damage to his armor. Julius drew his bolt pistol and looked it over, there were slight scratches but no damage. The captain leveled his pistol and tested the gun on a nearby tree trunk. The explosion, from the bullet's discharge to its detonation, caused birds all around to take flight in panic. Nodding in satisfaction at the large crater in the side of the tree Julius holstered the pistol. His right hand pulled his thunder hammer from his belt and he examined the weapon as well. No damage there either.

The Captain reached up with his hands and unlocked the latches holding his helm on. The preserved atmosphere inside his helm left with a hiss and the outside air took its place. The air was clear, fresh, and very easy to breathe, this was not the average Imperial world then.

Julius walked over to the side of the pod and pressed a hidden button and a small compartment popped open revealing survival supplies and a compact las-pistol with three power cartridges. The small pistol was removed from it's magnetically held position with a small click, the Space Marine slid a cartridge into the small gun and checked it for damage. The small weapon looked pathetic in his gigantic hand but in a situation like this you could never have too many weapons. The captain pulled a bag of grox leather out from compartment and pushed the survival equipment into it. Julius reached into the compartment one last time and pulled out an auspex. This device could find the nearest imperial outpost, and from there Julius could contact his chapter for retrieval. He flicked the activation rune with his thumb and looked for human life signs. The small and stubby antennas along the top of the auspex glowed and the screen showed small blips to the east. Julius replaced his helm, holstered the las-pistol and began his walk.

Hours later, and with still no other humans in sight, the Space Marine began to feel a strange sensation in the back of his mind. The feeling made him feel oddly out of place, as if he should not be there. Not in the spot in which he stood, but in existence itself. Julius shoved the strange feeling aside, and acknowledged another feeling. Julius may be a Space Marine, the ultimate human warrior, a marvel of genetic and technological engineering, but still he needed something even the most pitiful man needed. He was hungry. Not stopping, Julius reached into the bag and pulled out a small cylindrical package. Across the top were the words: Emergency rations. Add water.

The captain twisted the lid off of the rations, revealing grayish dust inside. Julius stopped in the shade of a large tree and pulled a small flask shaped container from the bag. Julius sat down and leaned against the tree's trunk, his armor's backpack scraping some of the bark from its surface. Julius removed his helm and also drew his combat knife. Expertly he sliced a small hole in the flask and dribbled a small amount of water into the rations, turning the powder into a paste. The Space Marine added some more water and thinned out the paste just enough to drink. He pulled the rations up to his mouth and tipped the mixture down his throat. The rations were tasteless but stocked with nutrients, as were most of the meals he ate. After he finished about half of the ration can, Julius stood up and twisted the lid back onto the container, ready to begin walking again. As he finished packing, he froze, the implant in his ear began picking up an all too familiar sound. The sound was battle. His enhanced sense of smell picked up a faint odors as well. Smoke, blood, and death.

Julius scooped up his helm, drew his bolt pistol and ran between the trees toward the sound and smell. The screaming and war cries became more audible, and the smoke could now be seen. The screaming was accompanied by the sound of battle, and as Julius passed one last tree and entered a clearing. There he saw the reason for the sounds and smells.

Before him stood a lightly fortified town, sharpened logs had made up a palisade around the thatch-roofed buildings. Bright green and red pennants flew as men wielding archaic bows and crossbows fired arrows into what held Julius's attention the most. The sight was what looked like a group of wild beast-like mutants doing their best to siege the human settlement. The town had been build in a large clearing in the forest, and the town's defenders apparently had been fighting this battle for some time. The mutants seemed to come from all directions out of the woods, but their corpses dotted the bloodstained field with feathered shafts sticking from them. Despite the terrible losses, the mutants hurled strange bronze spheres at the wooden wall, and on impact they sprayed a bright green flame. Quickly a side of the palisade protecting the city was roaring with unnatural fires. Julius rammed his helmet on his head and drew his hammer. He activated the power field with a flick of his thumb and raised the shining weapon high and drew his bolt pistol. "For the Emperor!" Several goat headed mutants turned in his direction, and snarled. Their horned heads exploded a moment later.

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The Militiamen of Stalwart Point village stood in wonder as a golden figure from the woods suddenly appeared and began killing the attacking beastmen. Those who had not stopped trying to put out the green flames stopped at the stranger's yell. The archers nearly dropped their bows in amazement when the figure raised a small box-shaped thing, and made it spit fire and noise like the muskets the now deceased marksmen had used. The long rifles they had been using did nothing like the gun in the stranger's hands, where a musket ball had punched holes through the crude armor worn by the Gors and Ungors, the box-gun rounds blasted the thick, horned, heads off with a thunder clap. The stranger continued firing until the beastmen left charged into combat, braying evil war cries. The golden armored stranger gripped his hammer in both hands and met the mutants head-on. The weapon was wreathed in white fire and the stranger used it mercilessly, crushing the creatures and leaving dieing beastmen in his wake. The beasts that could still run brayed in fear and retreated back to the safety the forest provided. Only when the survivors vanished into the shadows did the stranger stop chasing them. The Archers and Militiamen stood on the palisade wall and cheered. The stranger finished off any of his enemies who had survived and then turned to the palisade and began walking. The cheering slowly died down as the imposing figure stood at the charred gate. He then said something that puzzled them.

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"In the Emperor's holy name, open this gate!" Julius could see the men upon the palisades even though they were trying to hide. "If you do not open this gate I will break it down!" warned the Space Marine. One man, braver than the others stuck his head over the protective rim of the wall and looked down on Julius. "W-who arst thou?"

To Julius's ears the man was speaking gibberish, Apparently this was a very backwater world if High Gothic was not spoken. Julius's mind stumbled over the words for a few moments until they reformed themselves into something he could understand. The man was asking his name.

"I am Captain Julius Marconov of the Brazen Comets Space Marine chapter, seventh company." The man seemed just as perplexed by Julius's words as he was of theirs. Julius motioned to his auto reactive shoulder guard to show the chapter's heraldry. At the sight of the Twin-tailed Comet the man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He then turned his head back, shouted something, and the whole wall suddenly sprouted faces. Some men had huge smiles on their faces, one fainted and slumped over the wall, and the others like the first man merely stared in shock. The man shouted something down towards the gate and the large creaking wooden doors swung open. As Julius entered the village inside was quiet, and through his helm he could see people staring through dust covered windows and hiding in alleys. The cobblestone road on which he walked was rutted with use and very muddy. The thatch roofs of the buildings looked ready to burst into flames, and the walls were caked with ash and grime. _If the surface towns are like this_, thought Julius, _what are the under hives like?_

Julius continued to observe his surroundings, his HUD pointing out the many structural faults and damage around him. Julius sensed a presence behind him, and quicker than his size would suggest he spun around and leveled his bolt pistol straight between the eyes of the guard from before. The man obviously had been at weapon point before and didn't panic. "Hold thyne peace friend, we wish to spake wyth thou." Julius struggled with the words, they were utterly foreign to all his lessons and experience. He did remember something in his lessons, about what to do when on a planet that had been forgotten by the Imperium, the inhabitance should be calmer if they saw that he was human too. The Space Marine slowly re-holstered the gun and flicked the latches of his helm. The crowd that had been gathering backed away in fear from the hiss of the helm depressurizing. As Julius's face was beginning to be revealed, the people seemed to calm down, but when they saw his glinting bionic eye they backed off further, several mothers carried their children back into the crowd. Julius surveyed the crowd for a moment, and then turned back to the guard. "You, who here is in charge?" The man did not seem to understand. Julius tried again in Low Gothic, and even some of the stranger languages of planets he had fought on. The guard still did not understand.

"Dost thou spake Reikspeil?" the guard asked. Julius's armored gauntlet gently massaged his right temple in an effort to relive a developing headache. Using hand gestures he tried again. "Who…is…in…charge?" The man's brow wrinkled in concentration. Suddenly his face brightened. "Oh, The priest of thyne master, that what thou are wanting methinks." The man turned and gestured for him to follow. Julius, completely unsure of what the guard just said, replaced his helm and followed.

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Warrior-Priest Douglas Manoel kneeled before a large brass statue of Sigmar. He was the average height for a man average weight, and had average looks. Being so average had convinced him to lead a not so average life, so he had gone of to a monastery to become a feared warrior priest of Sigmar. So here he was, in the depths of an empty temple and clad in a white robe. His shaved head was circled by a ring of steel and a hammer pendant hung from a long chain worn as a necklace. If the Warrior-priest had not been bowed in prayer he would have seen once-beautiful carved scenes of battles decorating the walls of the temple, the carvings were now caked with grime that no amount of scrubbing could remove. The candle light inside the stone temple was dim, but it still shown off of the polished statue as if it was gold.

He prayed to his god as fervently as he could for clarity and guidance, partially because he did not know what to do about the constant raids and mainly because everyone around him always seemed to act so damn stupid.

As he kneeled in the proper position and muttered incantations, his mind toyed with that last thought.

His Order had sent him out to this town in order to properly lead his fellow men to Sigmar, and that in itself was a blessing, but it had seemed that mere moments after he entered the town with his hammer and prayer book, he had been besieged by many small minded and paranoid people. "Priest, the poor are all mutants in disguise!" or "Warrior-priest, my neighbor worships Chaos!" or his favorite, "Priest, the Mages are tampering with the occult!" Douglas smiled slightly at this one. He already knew the Mages tampered in the occult, that's what mages were _for_. He did not like wizards, but Douglas slept better at night knowing that they were messing around with reality, and the local drunk was not.

The quiet in the temple was disturbed by a loud knocking. The Warrior-Priest got to his feet irritably. Honestly, if one more woman thought her cat was possessed he was sure he would loose his mind. The frenzied knocking continued right until he swiftly opened the door. A man appeared in his doorway. From his dirty, but still military uniform and armor Douglas guessed he was a wall guard. His name was… Rupert, Douglas thought. "Priest! Sigmar incarnate has come, he slew-" Douglas slammed the steel bordered door and began walking back to the chapel's statue when the knocking came again. He opened the door forcefully with an irritated look, the hammer pendent hanging from his neck swinging. His face was screwed up in a scowl, because the same man stood there. "Priest, Sigmar is here, and-" "Service does not start 'till tomorrow, this will wait till then Rupert." Douglas turned his eyes to the seven foot tall, golden armored behemoth next to the guard. "And take your friend with you." The Warrior-priest shut the door and turned to walk back to his prayer spot. Two steps forward later he swiftly turned around and bolted for the door.

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Julius noted, with some amusement, the look on the apparent Holy Man's face as he opened the door with a terrified speed. It was the typical gaze any citizen of the Imperium adopted when they first see a Space Marine, somewhere between shock, awe, and terror.  
The robed man fell to his knees and began speaking. "Oh thank you blessed Sigmar! You really do answer prayers!" Julius thanked the Emperor that someone here spoke High Gothic. _Finally _thought Julius, _now I can get some answers._

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The golden armored figure reached to remove his helmet and, surprisingly, it came off with a hiss. Douglas stared at the glinting ruby eye on the man-titan's face for a moment, and then noticed the expression on the rest of his face, it seemed to be relief. "Denique, quispiam quisnam fatur High Gothic! Qua sum Ego?" Douglas's jaw dropped, this being spoke in the holy words, as if they were supposed to be used in common conversation!

"In nomen of Imperator , refero mihi vir! Qua sum Ego!?" shouted the golden armored man. The Warrior-priest licked his lips, this was going to be tricky.

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"This is the last time I am going to ask civilly, I know you can understand me, Now _where am I!?_" growled Julius. The Robed man before him breathed nervously, and then spoke again. "Forgive me my lord, for I had not consecrated you holy tree stump-" the man paused, cursed and tried again. "had not… foreseen your… presence amongst us lowly eels." Julius raised his remaining eyebrow, and not for the last time he wondered what backwater planet had he been thrown to? Julius tried again, slower. "Where…am…I. What…planet…are…we…on?" The Holy man before him seemed to understand the words partly, but their full meaning escaped him. Julius rubbed his temple with two armored fingers, this was going to be a long day.

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Later, deep in the forest surrounding Stalwart Point village, the light of a huge bonfire sent sparks flying high into the starry night. Hairy, braying, human-like shapes danced around it shouting and snorting in a guttural dark tongue. Bray-shamans stomped their hoofs, and rattled the decaying trophies hanging from gnarled staves craving power from the Dark Gods for favor and victory. Sacrifices from several races were thrown into the fire, screaming as the flames consumed their bodies with unnatural speed.

Not far from the fire a severed horned head fell to the ground, blood spurting from the neck stump. The body fell to the ground twitching, a splintered club in its right hand. A huge, armor-clad Wargor stood over the body in triumph. A massive, gore spattered axe was gripped strongly in the Wargor's hairy hands. The towering warrior brayed a challenge to the circle of gors around him. The other gors bared their necks in submission, and stepped back in to the shadows of the trees. None wanted to share in the pervious challenger's fate. The Wargor snorted past his nose ring and shouted an order and pointed from the body, to the bonfire. Three small ungors leaped to the body and dragged it away to the fire. The Wargor nodded and swiped the blood from his axe with a hairy palm. Good meat should not be wasted. The Wargor picked up the bloody head off the groung and lashed it to his chest armor with chain. He then sheathed his axe and stomped off into the woods.

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Injured pride and irritation filled Scriket's mind. How dare that muscle-bound, stupid,… _animal_ keep him waiting. The Warplock Engineer swished his hairless tail in anger. Couldn't the stupid Goat-thing at least arrive for a meeting it itself had planned? Scriket bared his fangs, this had better be important. Three of his most brilliant lackeys stood behind him, and four trained Jezzail snipers were hidden perfectly in the surrounding trees. Without his elite, most-invincible bodyguard he would almost be slightly worried about the meeting.

A tall horned figure stomped out from the shadows, the figure had horns, and hoofs. The Warplock Engineer's seseitive nose twitched, he smelled blood. The Wargor's great-axe was sheathed, and a very fresh looking head had been fastened to the beast's armor. "Stupid Goat-thing! You had better speak of the fall of the man-place, or our help you get no longer!" The Wargor snorted "Brak goar ga-tor errr-deshi!" Scriket glanced to the lackey on his left. The thin Skaven saw his master's questioning glance and cleared his throat. "He says that it was our treachery that caused him to fail, wisest of Warplocks."

Scriket stamped his paw and screeched at the Wargor. "How _dare_ you accuse us! We, who gave you warpfire bombs and cover fire! We gave the man-place to you, _and You Still FAIL!!_" The Wargor bellowed and shouted down to the skaven. "Heree dok-morr Graam! Hoar lock-tor bearr, yoor yaak nak lorom flor!"

Scriket glanced at the translator again. The skinny Skaven swallowed trying to piece together what the Beastman had said. "The Wargor, Graam claims that the enemy they faced was a man of metal, and since the man-empire has no such techno-magic, the metal-man must be our own, most efficient of Engineers." Scriket's fury was tempered by the story, his sense as an engineer was aroused. _A metal man? Metal in what way? Was it clockwork?_ _How did it come here, and if it defeated the Goat-things, how can I capture it. _Thoughts of huge promotions and rewards filled his mind. _I must have it!!_

The Skaven engineer angry manner disappeared and his thin whiskered face broke into the semblance of a cooperative smile. "Mighty…Graam, maybe I was too quick-quick with my speech-words. After all you have paid us in warpstone to take the man-place, almighty clan Skryre should not go back on it's word."

"Bell dor lock grii thoc." The translator mumbled a bit.. "He said: Yes, the rat promised." Scriket inwardly snapped at the Beastman for calling him a rat, but his outer persona remained unchanged. "We must say though, the metal-man is not ours, but if you attack the man-place now while the fools snore-sleep we could take the metal man and the man-place would be yours then." The Wargor snorted and spoke in its guttural speech again. The translator coughed. He says that they cannot tonight, their gods do not favor them now, after their failure, they will try again when they are favored." The Engineer wished to shoot the insolent Goat-thing with his warpstone pistol, the metal-man could be long gone by the time the fickle gods of Chaos decide to favor this band of beastmen. Behind his ratty smile, the skaven seethed but killing this beastman too early could have dire, and possibly even Eshin-shaped, consequences. Scriket dropped his smile. "Look Goat-thing, take the village and do what you want to the man-place, but I get the metal-man. We bring more warpfire bombs with us, try to take the metal-man and you will die-die." The Engineer's attendant dropped small crates full of the bronze spheres. Scriket chattered an order and the Skaven turned and scuttled back into the forest shadows. Graam shook his horned head and snorted. When the time came that the Skaven were of no further use to him, he would enjoy slow roasting that Engineer over a fire. The Wargor stacked the Skaven's crates and heaved them to his shoulder. By the smell from the direction of his camp the smell of half-cooked meat wafted. At least he would eat well this night.

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Miles away from any civilization, a hideous figure pulled itself from a smokeing crater. From it's boby came the sound of bones being knit back together at a horrible pace, and charred burns covering the figure healed just as fast. "Damn… That … Inquisitor…" muttered Dominik Deathreach.

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**Alright, I can only hope that this will be better received than the last chapter. As I said this is where it starts to get good, so give me a review. With out them, I am totally clueless about what I messed up on. ** **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Planning

**Alright, not half as many reviews as I had hoped for, but hey, I _did_ get reviews so I got no right to complain. To all who did review, thank you. More reviews give me more incentive to write, keep that in mind. **

**This is a Mid-point chapter. In other words, the next one will have all the fighting. This chapter leads up to the fighting. So if your just interested in bloodshed (and who ain't?) wait for the next chapter **

**Just because of the sheer fact I do not want to waste time with translations, when Beastmen talk to Beastmen it will be in English, not Dark Tongue. **

**Well… I guess that's it. **

**I'm glad to present my third chapter in this story, I hope you all remember to review. **

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Dawn came quickly to the small village of Esterheim. The dawn's peaceful and quiet light crept over the hills and passed trees, and fell upon the houses of the village. The thatched roofs, the broken doors, the blood spattered windows…

The light passed through a crimson stained window and awoke a monster inside.

Dominik Deathreach stretched his clawed hands and yawned as he was brought to consciousness. The former Dark Apostle climbed out of the small bed he had taken the night before, and stepped toward the light coming from a smashed doorway. He chuckled at the memory. The villagers tried so hard to fight against him, the poor, deluded fools. They had rejected the Word of Chaos, and Dominik was so hungry that night. Ridiculous really, all he had demanded from them was two or three children, nothing to get them all killed over. Dominik raised his right hand and stared at the deamonicly enhanced talons, it had amazed him how easily they sliced through those villagers.

The half-deamon bent over, reached for an object in the shadows of the ruined house, and pulled a cruelly severed hand into the light. Dominik's fangs were revealed as he smiled viscously in hunger.

The loud snapping of bones, and ripping of flesh filled the air, as the half-deamon pondered what his next move would be.

His memories of his days as a Word Bearer were fading, as if he had never lived them, and with some surprise Dominik enjoyed this. His former mortal masters were now beneath him, in fact as soon as he got off this primitive rock of a world he would go straight to the Eye of Terror, kill the forever-failing Abbadon, and then-

Pain like no other suddenly flared through him, as if parts off his soul were being wrenched off in the most agonizing way possible. The part of his new body that was connected to the warp roiled in turmoil and blazed with diabolic power. Blinding, consuming power crashed into his head and flowed like magma throughout the rest of his body. He grabbed his head in pain and dropped what was left of his breakfast to the floor. His screams of agony were drowned out by a world-shakingly powerful voice, blasting through his head, crushing his thoughts, his will, and instantly evaporating his ego.

**_Pitiful, Worthless Minion! You Are Mine! You Soul Is Mine! Obey Me Or Face Oblivion! _**The voice roared.

Dominik fell to the ground and clutched his horned head in torment. "W-Who are you!!" he screamed. The voice's thunder rose in terrible volume and strength.

**_How Dare You Speak! You Are Nothing! I Command You And You Obey! UNDERSTAND!? _**

Through tear filled eyes, Dominik saw that the world around him did not shake at the Voice's words, how could they be so still? The surges of the Voice's power crashed within him like storm tossed waves thrown at ridiculous speed. The unspeakably powerful owner of the Voice boomed again.

_**Answer!**_

Dominik clutched his head, it felt as if it was being ripped open. "Yes Master! I understand!!" he screamed in agony. The terrible sea of power flooding him lessened, and the pain stopped. Domink lay flat out on the floor and shuddered. The voice was still there, but when it spoke it no longer brought the terrible pain from before.

**_You Will Do My Bidding, Deviate From My Instructions Pawn, And Instant Annihilation Will Be Your Only Reward. _**

Dominik, not moving, took a deep breath. "Yes master, what shall I do?"

_**Go North.**_

Dominik sat up and licked his lips. "What is in the north, master?" The Voice boomed again, smashing the air from his chest like a physical blow.

_**DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS PAWN! **_

Domink prostrated himself. "I'm sorry master, forgive me!" The pain receded again, until only the presence of the voice remained. Dominik swallowed in fear, what was this that had crushed him so easily. Had another Deamon envied his place in the material realm and sought to take his form from him? The Voice merely rumbled as it spoke this time.

**_You Had Asked Me My Name Pawn? You Have Served Me And Those Like Me For Thousands Of Your Pitifully Short Years. Can You Not Guess?_**

Blood flowed from the mutilated corpses scattered through out Esterheim, streaming to the wrecked house where Dominik was. The crimson fluid began changing color and hue randomly and then rose off the ground like birds taking flight. The multi-colored liquid sped to the air before his face and stopped. The chaotic fluid flowed together into a shape that could have been an eye, or a twisted comet but to those who knew Chaos recognized this symbol, it was the symbol of the all-powerful Architect of Fate. Dominik realized who his new master was. He supposed he should have felt blessed, but then again maybe he shouldn't. Very few servants of Chaos last long when Tzeentch itself took an interest in them.**** ****

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Julius and the Warrior-priest, as the Space Marine now knew him, had spent the entire night and the greater part of the morning, learning to speak to one another. To Warrior-priest Douglas, Julius's speech was much like the sacred language used for prayers, but full of strange words and ideas, such as "Auspex" or "Imperium". Even a strange and terrifying phenomenon called "Outer Space".

To Julius, Douglas's words were High Gothic, but if was as if he had only learned a small part of the language, and was making more words up as he moved along. This "Warrior-Priest" seemed to understand what Julius said until he got to asking where this world's spaceport was. His forehead would then wrinkle in thought and then he would shake his head, the mutual sign they used for not understanding. Was this planet so remote that these people had forgotten that there was more to the galaxy than the planet they were standing? All Julius had managed to gather together is that the wild mutants that had attacked earlier did so often, but recently they had been using strange weapons against the town. Weapons far to complex for the barbaric creatures to craft. The Space Marine wondered why the Planetary Governor, this Sigmar person he guessed, hadn't called for help in exterminating them yet.

The night vanished without any spectacular results, but by midday the two had finally managed to cobble together most of the words needed to speak in a conversation. According to the maps and the priest's words, Julius was somewhere in a place called Hochland, and this was somewhere in a place known as the Empire. The Space Marine was grateful for the information, but the maps he was shown were so old that not even hive cities were on it.

The primary issue was that the Warrior-Priest, whose name turned out to be Douglas, had no idea what a spaceport was, where a trustworthy astropath could be found, or where even the nearest shrine to the Emperor was.

Douglas told him that he would send a messenger to a nearby city, to see if they had such things, but in the mean time it would be the his honor to have the Space Marine remain here until then. The only issue was the fact that the messenger would take some time to return, and by then the town would be in the dead of winter. Julius thought on this, but seeing as he had no real choice he decided that if his brothers did not find him by then he could wait for a mere season. As the Space Marine traveled through the town, the Warrior-Priest, Douglas was to follow him around as a translator.

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Deep in the forest, the wild herd of Beatsmen had set up dens to use during the winter. Their animal instincts had told them that Fall's end was near, and the winters this close to Kislev were legendary for being brutal. The herd noisily felled trees with their axes and piled the logs against taller trees to make circular cone shaped huts called Gor-tlaks or Gor dens. Wargor Graam made himself busy by claiming the largest Gor-tlak as his own and violently removing all other occupants. He snarled and bared his large axe at the recently evicted beastmen. The Gors and Ungors surrendered their hut and stalked over to the warm bonfire. No one wanted to face Graam now, the rotting head of the last challenger was still lashed to the Wargor's armor and was remained a potent reminder of what happened to challengers.

Behind his snarls Graam was getting worried.

It had been two months after the Metal-man had defeated his attack of the Human town, and still the Chaos Gods had yet to favor them again. The Bray-Shamans had said the omens portended a great victory for Chaos, but they all were mysteriously vague when it came to how long until they were favored again.

The Skaven were becoming more persistent with their visits and were more demanding with the capture of the Metal-man. They provided the weapons they promised, but since there was no one to fight they were useless, even more useless than the beastmen's own weapons for at least those you can eat if you're driven to. Silently he hoped that he would never see that arrogant ratty face ever again.

The Wargor's sensitive ears picked up bellowing from the silence of the forest. Deeper than any of his herd, and far louder. The Wargor drew his blade and exited the Gor-tlak into the chilly air. He sniffed the chilly air heavily, and his nose picked up a heavy scent. A scent of power, dominance and sheer bloody-mindedness, a scent he knew well.

"Minotaur." He breathed.

Three hulking shaped formed themselves from the darkness of the night, each easily ten feet tall, had horns longer than a man's leg, and two carried a huge rock on their backs. As they approached the Warherd all edged away from the towering beasts. The lead Minotaur wore heavy pieces of deep red armor, and carried a massive spiked club on it's back, and a equally large axe swung from it's hip. Because the beast's arms were thicker than his legs, Graam did not doubt the mighty warrior used them both with brutal efficiency. The beast's eyes were large, red and filled with madness, and on his brow the mark of Khorne wept red blood. Graam bared his neck in submission the bull-man. "I am Wargor Graam, what brings you, favored of the Gods?"

When the Minotaur spoke even his deep voice had the promise of brutal violence. "We come because Gods have said to." Graam turned to the two others carrying a huge rock. The two Minotaurs were, if anything, more heavily muscled than their leader, and the great stone they carried reeked with the wondrous scent of Chaos. Graam's eyes widened as his senses told him how much power the stone-carriers were being fed by their burden, giving them the strength to carry its great weight. The lead Minotaur gestured to the Chaos rock. "Our souls, bound to Herdstone, so we not leave it. Make room."

Before Graam could bray an order the bearers slammed the stone into the ground beside them, crushing a Gor and a couple of Ungors in its passage. Graam could now see the deeply etched chaos runes covering its surface. The runes on the stones surface seemed to writhe, as if the very stone was desperate to be rid of the fell markings. Even glancing at them made the Wargor's eyes hurt.

Tendrils of stone, as prehensile as tentacles, stretched themselves from the stone's base and buried themselves into the ground, rooting the Herdstone to the ground. As the bearer's removed their hands from the chaos stone the current of chaos power to them ceased. Their bodies and muscles returned to their original, but still impressive size. Forefront in Graam's mind was the awe of these chosen servants of Chaos, but swiftly came another notion. A smile worked it's way around Graam's goat-like features. The herd was favored again.

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The palasaded town of Stalwart Point was now firmly in the grip of winter, and this night was colder than most. People were all huddled inside, near the fire or together for warmth.

The temple was quiet, save for the icy wind rattling the glass windows, the soft popping from the fire, and the soft conversation coming from between two of the pews. Julius watched silently as Douglas listened to a woman from the village. She had lost her son in the attack from the "Beastmen" as they were called, and had come here for consol. The Space Marine crossed his armored arms in slight frustration. Why did this priest not just hurry up and send her away? Most of the priests of the Ecclesiarchy that Julius had met had merely riled up Imperial Guard before a fight with rousing speeches filled with fire and brimstone. But Douglas apparently chose a different way, as he was demonstrating now. His voice was calm and focused, in the stead of crazed fanaticism. Soon the woman got up and began walking to the door. She curtsied to Julius, who nodded back, and left through the door.

"Are you now finished Priest?" the Space marine asked. Douglas swept his hand over his shaved head, a habit left over from when he had hair. "Yes Angel, that should be the last of them." Julius had stopped wondering why the Warrior-Priest kept calling him an Angel. True, the Space Marines were often called Angels of Death, but he had already told his name to the man three times over. The fact that Douglas seemed use the word "Angel" as a revered title, as if he were speaking to a Lord, or someone else of extremely high and impressive stature puzzled the Space Marine, it _was_ an unusual title. The Priest looked over to him with a slight smile on his lips. "How long has it been since you arrived here, Angel.?" Julius though for a moment. "Nearly two months, three days." Douglas sat silently for a moment. "Very well, the courier I sent should return soon enough." Julius merely nodded. "I still do not understand why we could not have sent him on a hover-coach. It would have taken much less time." Douglas raised an eyebrow. "Huvver-coach?" Julius let his arms fall to his sides. "Nevermind, the point is-" The door to the temple flung open, and a snow dusted man in jumbled up clothes appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. The candles in the temple flickered mightily at the sudden cold wind. "Preist! Thou muste help me, myne son… he…" The man fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Douglas leapt to his feet and stepped forward. Julius hurriedly bent down to the unconscious man and turned his face to the light. "It is Vahl, Priest."

Douglas's face screwed up in a snarl. "Not again!" The priest turned, ran up to the pulpit, and snatched a heavy hammer out from behind it. Julius looked up in time to see Douglas running out into the snowstorm with hammer in hand. "Come Angel, there is work to be done!"

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Vahl's house was in the poorer part of Stalwart Point. Some of the houses were little more than lean-tos nailed to the palisade wall. The Space Marine and Priest arrived at a small hut. Several blankets had been draped over an old wooden frame to keep the winter's chill out, and a small, rusty pipe, playing the part of a chimney stuck out of the highest point. "What am I to do here Priest?" The marine said. Douglas turned to Julius and looked him in the eye. "Pray. It always helps." He said after a while, and then pulled aside a blanket and stepped inside.

Julius had met Vahl a week ago when the man had arrived at Douglas's chapel, begging the Priest to his heal son. The child had apparently been sick, but the disease was not so simple as to be cured easily. The beastmen had apparently changed tactics, and instead of attacking wildly, they were using some kind of depraved psyker power to infect the town with some deamon-plague.

It seemed that Vhals son was to be the carrier of the pestilence, luckily Duoglas seemed to know how to deal with this threat. Julius was skeptical about the priest's methods. The man seemed to heal with mere words, one minute a wounded man would enter the Temple, Douglas would pray, and the wounded man would be instantly healed and leave. It seemed possible the Priest was a latent pysker, healing abilities were un commen but not unheard of. Julius could here Douglas's prayers through the blanket wall. "Oh sanctus Sigmar, postulo is nequam opus Chaos quod suffoco spera of pravus secuutus of Atrum Filiolus…"

Julius smiled at the Priest's words. He exhaled as they reminded him of the fiery sermons of Chaplain Manoroc. As his breath floated away like small clouds in the cold air, his thoughts turned to his Chapter, The Brazen Comets. He wondered if any of his Brothers had managed to escape the destruction of the _Annihilatus_. Through the tiny viewing port in his own escape pod he saw many other escape pods and droppods flee the dieing ship. Maybe some of his brothers were still alive. Memories of past campaigns and old friends from them filled his mind.

Techmarine Hephaestus, a good friend since recruitment, and they had still been friends after Hephaestus returned from Mars after being trained in the way of the Machine. Captain Xavior Meteal, he was most surely dead. He had been Captain of the _Annihilatus_ long before Julius even became an Acolyte. Chaplain Manoroc, the man truly believed the words he preached. The Chaplain was always the first to throw himself into the frontlines, roaring the Litanies of Hate at the top of his voice. Venerable-Brother Saul and Zachariah, The two mighty ancients had stood as bulwarks against the fiercest attacks, were they gone now too?

Had any of those he had known escaped destruction?

A rustling of the Blanket walls disturbed him from his memories, as the Warrior-Priest stepped out from the hut. Julius turned his head to the Priest. "Well?"

Douglas sighed, his face more pale than normal. "The boy will live a while longer, and this Chaos plague is stalled once more. But as long as those Chaos scum out there keep trying it I don't think this threat will ever stop." Julius looked down at the priest's right hand. The man was clenching his hammer's handle so tight that all blood had drained from his hand. Douglas relaxed for a moment to draw his thick woolen robes around him tighter and began walking back to the chapel. Julius followed.

"Tell me priest, why do you not mount an attack on these mutants. Go into their forest and wipe them out?"

"We are too few, Angel. The beasts infest the forest like the disease infests Vahl's boy."

"Surely you can post a request to the Planetary Governor for a regiment of Imperial Guard. Let the Emperor's Hammer cleanse this place." Said Julius gesturing to the forest beyond with an outstretched arm. Douglas shook his head sadly. "Your words escape me again, but I know what you mean, Angel." The Space Marine reached over Douglas pushed open the heavy temple door with one hand. The Priest walked over to the stuttering fire, and began stoking it with a long piece of firewood. He then continued.

"We have sent requests for help to our Elector Count, Aldebrand Ludenhof." The Priest sighed. "The first two messengers never returned, the third came back, but only with news from the Count saying, 'we sympathize with Stalwart point's plight, but we have our own mutant problems, I can't afford to send any troops.' The forth messenger didn't return either."

Julius felt shocked. "Is you lord so corrupt that he won't help his own people?"

To further Julius's shock, these words caused Douglas to begin laughing. "No, don't get him wrong, Lord Ludenhof is a fair ruler. Especially compared to some other Electors. The pity is, is that he is most likely right, he probably does have his own problems. Beastmen permeate every forest in the Old World after all." Julius stepped toward the priest, his very footfalls telling of confusion and doubt. "Are you telling me that this world is that heavily tainted, and still no one has even bothered to try to kill off these Mutants?" Douglas began again, Julius however was no longer listening. Where in the Imperium was he? Was this a forgotten world from the time of the Great Crusades? Julius train of thought was broken as his heightened sense of hearing picked up the sound of foot falls coming toward the chapel. The Space marine raised a hand, and Douglas went silent. "Priest, we have a visitor."

"What? How do you know tha-" The door slammed open, a man in the red and green of a guards uniform threw himself in. his unshaved jaw hung limply as he gasped for breath. "Prieste! Angel! 'tis Crispin, outsyde the gates, hee ys here!" Julius had picked up enough of the townspeople's language over his time there to understand enough. "So a guard is at the gates, why does it matter?" Douglas rose and looked Julius in the eye.

"It matters if the guard was the forth messenger who ran into the forest four months ago and hasn't been seen since."

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Julius and Douglas stood on the palisade wall overlooking the gate, and stared grimly at the sickening sight below them. The mutilated body of the guard Crispin lay below them, crucified on a rough-hewn eight pointed star. Tattered scraps of red and green cloth hung loosely from ruined flesh. Snow settled on the cold body in the stillness of the air. Douglas was the first to break the silence.

"Savages. You can tell it was the Beasts what done it by the rope." The Priest gestured to the corpse's bindings. "The Beasts make it from twisted briarvine, cultists or others would use nails of some sort." Julius felt his fury building, ember by ember, until it grew into hate. "What are you going to do now? He asked. Douglas frowned. "The only thing we can do. Captain!"

A wall guard arrived with a crossbow. "Yes my Lord?" Douglas gestured with his head to the corpse. The guard nodded with understanding. "Yes my Lord." Julius watched grimly as the guard pulled a crossbow bolt from a quiver at his side. The bolt's head was hidden by an oil soaked rag tied securely around it.

The guard thrust the bolt's head into one of the torches illuminating the scene, and the rag burst into bright flame. The guard loaded the fiery bolt and launched the burning missile into the corpse. The flames spread quickly over the body, lighting a wide area. The light from the burning body merely revealed the first few trees of the dark forest. Douglas spoke again.

"Do you understand the meaning of this?" he said calmly. The sparking anger of Julius was verging on flame. "They set a challenge before us, we who could destroy them with little effort." said the Space Marine. Douglas frowned, caught in his own thoughts. "We burnt the body because it might have carried the very same plague Vahl's boy carries." said the Warrior-priest ignoring Julius. "We had to do this, we can hold them off as we always can, this way we c-" the flame of Julius fury burst into life.

He slammed his gauntleted fist onto the wooden palisade pulverizing an inch of wood. "How can you live this way?! Mutants, Worshippers of the deamon and evil cannot stand against Humanity, yet you hide here in fear!" Fires blazed in his eye, as Julius stood to his full seven foot height. Memories of Chaplain Manaroc's speeches flooded to his mind.

"How can we fear the enemy? Are not the greatest of Emperor's foes insignificant to any one of us? For His glory we shall not falter, for in his name we are invincible" roared Julius. Douglas clenched his jaw and remained staring at the burning corpse. "How can the Alien stand before us? How can the Witch taint us? How can the Mutant terrify us? It cannot!"

Wall guards and other villagers began appearing from their posts and houses, wrapped in warm clothes and brought to the gate by the shouting. "Are we, who can stop them, going to let this…_filth_ sully this world while we stand and watch?! If you will not join me I will purge the beasts myself, and your own souls be damned for your cowardice!" Douglas eyes slanted dangerously and he drew his hammer. He hoisted the heavy iron weapon until it pointed meaningfully at the Space Marine. "No one calls the priests of Sigmar cowards." He said through clenched teeth. "Angel, if you say we are to go against the beasts, so be it." Douglas turned to the gathered populace. "The Angel of Sygmar demands we go forthe to vanquish the evyl that lies in yon foreste. Those strong of hearte and skilled with sword will joine us to battle in the morn. Thus the Angel spake."

The crowd murmured and began to disperse back to their homes. The Priest turned to Julius. "You have your battle force, we of Stalwart Point have lived near Darkwood for a long time and you will not find us failing." Julius nodded and Douglas walked off the palisade wall and into the night. Julius simply stood on the palisade and watched the body, and the wooden Eight-pointed star, collapse into ash.

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Gors and Ungors listened to the loud shouting coming from the Wargor's hut. Despite the cold, the Beastmen leaned in to hear the heated argument. If someone died that would mean meat, The Minotaur had eaten all of the saved meat, and were now devouring an unlucky ungor behind them. Between the loud brays and threats of their leader was a higher pitched voice, squeaking furiously. The argument lasted for hours, until a small, armored, rat-like figure stamped out of the Gor-tlak chittering to itself in fury. An Ungor, with starved hunger in it's eyes, raised a spear and stepped stealthily after the Rat-man, it's hoof making a slight crunching snow on the snow. The Rat-man stopped walking, and pulled a small green sphere from a pouch on it's belt. Without turning around, the creature threw it behind him. "Die-die Goat thing." It snarled.

The sphere shattered on the Ungor's tiny horns and shattered, spilling a thick green gas over the beastman. The other beasts leapt to escape the fumes, leaving those slow enough to be caught in it to die.

Graam pulled aside the hide door of his Gor-tlak to see several Gors and Ungors braying weakly, and choking in a dissipating cloud. He watched as the last gas-victim fell over, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. Graam recognized the work of a Skaven gas-weapon, and waited for the sickly cloud to be blown away by the chilly wind. The Wargor sniffed the air and stared into the shadows of the dark woods. The Rat-man was gone. Graam could not wait until he could kill that Skaven, and were it not for the wall of the human town, and this appearance of the Metal-Man, he was sure he would have done it by now. By Khorne, he could not wait.

As he fumed, snow began settling on the dead beastmen. The Gors began to bully the Ungors into moving the dead over to the fire. Despite his anger he could not help but heed his stomach, and walked after the bodies. Meat was a very welcome sight.

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**See, told ya, a Mid-point chapter. Or whatever the proper term is. Any way I would have added the fighting to this chapter to make it more exciting, but that would just make it way too long. Trust me. **

**If there are any Chaos-lovers out there who think I did any think wrong with the Beastmen, or Tzeentch, please tell me. Chaos ain't my strong suit.**

**Anyway, remember to review, tell me what you liked, what you disliked, I really don't care. I just want the reviews. Save for Flames. I don't want those.**

**Oh yeah, if you want translations for the Latin I find my self using, don't ask me. Just copy and paste it on to a translator sight.**

**Have a nice day, and remember to review. **


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